Wonderwall: The Super Squint in the Wonder Woman
by Skole
Summary: A tale of B&B wall-sex for Nates Mama - Happy Birthday! Written as a challenge from The Lab Forum - so I'm breaking my rating barrier for this one  gulp! . A steamy, funny, parodic PWP. Episode tag 5x03 - The Mummy in the Maze. Please review :


**Wonderwall; or the Super-Squint in the Wonder Woman **

**Episode Tag: 3x05 "The Mummy in the Maze"**

**Disclaimer: **BONES does not belong to me; it belongs to FOX and lots of folks with real writing talent…

**A/N: This story is dedicated to NatesMama, on the occasion of her 40****th**** birthday. The suggested requirement for this piece involves one specific scenario…wall sex – the smuttier, the better. Well, I generally keep my fics in the T rated zone, but in this special case, I'm going to make an exception and turn up the heat, because I just love a challenge. Drop me a line & let me know if this is worthy of the M rating.**

**Happy 40th Birthday, Jen! Wishing you much love, joy, laughter & wall sex of course…**

* * *

Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, October 31st

Bruised, bloodied, and bedraggled; Booth and Brennan sat on the steps leading up to the forensics platform. The place was deserted, thanks to the non-negotiable mandate on attendance at the Jeffersonian Halloween party. Befitting the occasion this evening, he happened to be a Superman in a Squint costume; she was a sexy Squint in a Wonder Woman costume. The case was over in a hail of gun-fire. They had saved the girl, and blown away the bad guy in the process. Consequently, their adrenaline levels were finally receding. Looking like they'd just emerged from a bar brawl at the Justice League, the partners paused to take stock of the events of the evening. The scores were even.

He'd been accidentally shot by Brennan.

She'd been accidentally dropped on her head by Booth.

Booth removed his _'Clark Kent'_ glasses and sighed heavily. It didn't matter whether his geeky glasses were on or off, since she'd shown up in that Wonder Woman costume, his mind was looping about how fucking fantastic her breasts were. Over the course of the evening, he'd only managed to keep his mind completely off them when he was being shot at. Except of course for that half minute when she had climbed down the ladder into the subway, at which point, he'd become supremely focussed upon Temperance Brennans' patriotically star-spangled ass.

Brennan leaned forward to talk to him, forearms resting on her knees, oblivious to the fact that her breasts were threatening to spill over the top of her costume. Booth felt the rush of blood heading due South. It was apparent that his body had emerged from the subway, but his mind was still abandoned, twitching feebly in the gutter.

.

"I'm sorry you had to kill someone. I know you hate that," she said with compassion, a serious expression on her face.

Booth deflected. "Yeah, he had it coming."

"You hate it. I'm sorry that happened to you," she persisted.

"We saved the girl." His eyes flicked up to meet hers. "That's a pretty good date…"

A flicker of consternation crossed her face. "Except, not really a date."

.

'_Danger, Danger, Seeley Booth!'_ his mind screamed, blaming the redirection of blood flow from his brain to his dick, for being foolish enough to bring the date thing up again. She'd told him that they looked like Wonder Woman and Superman after a really bad date. Considering her track record in the dating department, Booth wasn't positive that Bones could actually tell the difference; it wasn't a matter of brow ridges, or pelvic morphology.

.

"I know. It was…"

Brennan finished his sentence. "…work. Not a date"

"A really, really, hard one." Booth commented, wincing internally as he uttered the word 'hard' – that sort of thing happened when you left synonym selection to your dick. Even though it was a fair assessment, it hadn't been one that he had intended to verbalise.

Brennan continued to rationalise through her uncertain feelings, as she observed and took note of the telltale signs of arousal in her partner. "And we're not really Wonder Woman and Clark Kent. We're Brennan and Booth."

"Look, you're the one who brought up the date analogy," he retorted. _'And I'm the one who dragged it out for an encore!' _he mused.

They sat in silence for a few moments, savouring the suggestive bouquet of their collective sexual tension. He could see the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed out of the corner of his eye. She too took note of him, and irrationally wished that her Lasso of Truth actually worked, knowing that if she asked about her observations of his arousal that he would give his usual denials and deflections.

"You hungry?" she blurted, just managing to substitute 'hungry' for 'horny' in the nick of time.

"Yeah," he replied, desperately needing something to do with his hands, and his mouth.

She quickly agreed. "Me too."

.

He stood, and she followed after him, getting a good glimpse of the evidence which confirmed her theory. Their physical response was mutual. Of course, she was at an advantage, Booth couldn't see any obvious evidence of her own arousal under her costume. She took a couple of steps after him, and spontaneously entered a Wonder Woman spin. The balance centre in her middle ear delivered dizzy messages to her brain, which were a complement to the giddy messages from her groin and the delicious friction of the inner surface of the Wonder Woman bustier against her skin.

"Okay, let's go grab a bite to eat," said Booth as he headed toward the main doors of the lab. He turned around and saw her spinning. "What the hell are you doing?"

She halted her spinning, but her insides spun on like a gyroscope. "Nothing," she replied, as they resumed their path to exit the lab.

"Booth, wait!"

"What is it?" he asked, stopping in his tracks.

"Angela left a flash drive of reconstruction images that I need, in my office. I didn't have anywhere to carry it when we left to go to the subway, so I left it behind," she explained, as she strode off toward her office. Booth followed along.

"Wait. You had room in that costume for that enormous gun that you shot me with, Bones. But you're telling me there was no room left in that costume for an itty bitty flash drive?" asked Booth incredulously as he increased his pace, rushing to catch up, and followed her into her office.

Just inside the doorway to her office, Brennan stopped abruptly and spun around to face him, a retort ready on her lips. Booth was suddenly on a collision course with her, putting his hands out in front of him as he skidded to a halt, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Are you planning to search my Wonder Woman costume for hidden compartments, Booth? Because you might want to consider opening your eyes before you continue," said Brennan in a challenging _'I double-dog-dare you'_ tone.

Booth didn't need to open his eyes to know that his hands had landed directly on Wonder Woman's impressive bosom. When he did open his eyes, it was to stare directly into hers as they reflected the smirk of amusement on her lips. Her gazed flicked down to where his hands cupped her breasts. When their eyes met again, she gave him a challenging look as she deliberately pushed herself further into his hands. He jumped backwards as if his hands were on fire. In another happy coincidence, at that moment his crotch felt like it too was engulfed in flames.

"I'll bet _that_ never happed at the Justice League…," muttered Booth, his demeanour hovering midway between titillated and mortified.

"I disagree. Wonder Woman represents the cultural pinnacle of Western feminine empowerment and sexuality. I am sure that she would maintain a healthy sexual appetite, befitting both her super-hero status, and her Amazonian cultural mores." Brennan gave a sly smile as she stepped closer to Booth, who was now rooted to the spot. "She would also have a highly satisfactory selection of alpha male super-hero mates to choose from."

.

Booth privately conceded that Bones had a point, but couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Even considering the concept cast a patina of seediness over the Justice League, which just wasn't cool. "No way, Bones! Wonder Woman never got felt up by Superman, or any of the other super-heroes at the Justice League, period, okay?"

Brennan gave a laugh at his discomfort and placed her hands on the lapels of his lab coat. The clunk of his heels hitting the skirting panel of the wall behind him was overly loud in the deserted lab complex, an acoustic confirmation which signified that there would be no further retreat.

"Are you saying that you never fantasised about Wonder Woman in your youth, Booth?" she asked, as she invaded his personal space, unaccountably emboldened by the lingering scents of gunpowder residue and axle grease from their subterranean adventures.

He gave a nervous laugh. "Every red-blooded American guy has had a thing for Wonder Woman, Bones. She's got super-speed, super-strength, a cool invisible jet plane, great looks, and fantastic…"

"Breasts?" she suggested, giving a low chuckle as his gaze flicked involuntarily downward to the still grime-smudged cleavage at six o'clock on his radar. She placed her hands on her hips, standing right in his face. "Tell me, Booth. Are you a _red-blooded American guy_?"

"Y'know, I don't have to answer that…," deflected Booth. "Umm, your Lasso is…poking into my hip, Bones…"

"Turnabout is fair game, Booth…"

"_Fair play_,…woah there, Wonder Woman!" exclaimed Booth as an unexpected forward momentum from her pushed the cheeks of his ass back up against the wall behind him, and his now raging hard-on into her hip. His hands reflexively landed flat against the wall behind him. Taking advantage of the moment, Brennan removed her hands from her hips, placing her right hand in a dominant brace position just above his left shoulder; her left hand moved to the Lasso at her hip. Employing a manoeuvre which was either supremely lucky or clearly practiced, the Lasso of Truth was disconnected, unravelled, and deployed over his shoulders, being pulled tight with a final flourish, which was punctuated by a predatory smile.

"You are now required to answer truthfully. Are you a _red-blooded American guy_?" she asked.

Booth felt himself breaking out into a light sweat, exerting as much self-control as he could scrape together with his ass literally and figuratively against the wall. His eyes snapped front and centre to meet hers. The tension between them had escalated to an out-of-control crescendo; he was like a box of fire crackers too close to her bonfire of sex appeal.

"I am a red-blooded American _man_," he replied in a voice that was sure, steady, and in a tone that should be deemed illegal outside of a bedroom in all fifty states. He saw the dilation of her pupils in response, her face took on an expression of consideration, reassessing her partner as a sexual entity.

"So, as a red-blooded American _man_, would it be reasonable to conclude that you fantasise about me?" asked this particularly rational iteration of Wonder Woman.

He cleared his throat, his fingers twitching against the surface of the wall. "All the time…, I mean, Wonder Woman is hot."

"Perhaps, I should have been more specific," she said with a raised eyebrow. "When I stipulated '_me',_ I wasn't referring to your Wonder Woman fantasies…"

Without warning, Booths' hands travelled from their neutral zone on the cool wall behind him to the star-spangled buttocks of his partner. He pulled her flush up against his hard body.

"I wasn't referring to Wonder Woman either," he growled next to her ear. His breath was hot on her skin as he spoke. Their hips ground against each other impatiently as a primal subtext to their conversation; providing promise of the release that they both craved.

.

Brennan moved the hand not maintaining the tension on the Lasso of Truth, and splayed it behind his head, threading her fingers through his hair. Booth felt tingling burning lines over his scalp, where her fingers had travelled. She turned her face so that their lips were almost touching, their eyes locked with a force that should have been audible.

"Holy shit, Bones!" rasped Booth. "If we don't stop this now, I'm gonna do you against this wall."

"Not if I do you first…," countered Brennan, in a low volume threat, as she landed her lips with exquisite precision over his.

.

The contact between their lips was the spark required to ignite the fireworks, obliterating the line between them in a water versus magnesium flare. There was no pissing about with gentle pecks and lip play; that stuff was for mere mortals; it was straight to the main event. Their heads instinctively orientated to the optimal angle where their tongues could be unleashed in a dynamic, duelling dance for dominance. A simple kiss mutated into a delicious cycle of aggression and passion. Crash together. Devour and dominate. Achieve semi-orgasmic synergy to a soundtrack of their involuntary noises of pleasure. Driving intensity to the point of fulminant hypoxia. Separate and gasp. Lock gazes again. Crash together.

The cycle ran unchecked for some time. Rinse and repeat. The process involved the building of their baseline pleasure, with individual and mutual satisfaction spiralling upward, taking them to the next level.

.

Seeley Booth, as a veteran of both love and war, was renowned for paying attention to detail in battle. So his surprise was audible when he heard and felt his pants hit the ground, thanks to the dexterous hands of his partner, with a little help from gravity. His pants were closely followed by his betraying boxer shorts defecting in kind, as he paused in shock. It was clear that Temperance Brennan intended to carry out her threat to _'do him'_ against the wall. The very thought of her dropping to her grazed and bloodied knees for the doing made his balls tighten and sent a sweet wave of pre-orgasmic fire along his spine. He had to change tactics before he re-enacted the outcome of some those pre-teen Wonder Woman fantasies and blew his load.

Brennan gave a low chuckle. "Superman?" she asked huskily, breathing heavily enough to make the rise and fall of Wonder Woman's bosom cause another rush of fire and ice to scream through his overstimulated body. Somehow, the buttons of his shirt had been undone, revealing the Superman T-shirt beneath. He was so close now; she had no idea. Or perhaps she did.

"Take it off," demanded Brennan, indicating his T-Shirt with a sharp inclination of her head.

"Nah, ah, ah, Bones!" he replied giving a slight shake of his head. In response to her surprise at her request being denied, Booth employed a move which in short order freed him from the constraints of the Lasso of Truth, and placed its' wielder facing against the wall spreadeagled, law enforcement style. She gave an _'oomph' _of protest, which morphed into a moan of pleasure as his hands slid between her costume and her breasts; palms, fingers and thumbs wondering in welcome worship.

He pressed his torso up behind hers and spoke in a rough whisper, buying himself a little time to bring himself back from the brink, his voice was just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of their heavy breathing.

"Y'know, you drive me wild even when you're fully dressed. Lab coat, coveralls, business suit, whatever…, but this Wonder Woman number…"

"You find it alluring?" she asked around a gasp as her gave a firm squeeze to her breasts.

"I find it fuckable…" he answered in blunt honesty. All semblance of social constraint stripped away, leaving his raw desire as naked as his body now was from the waist down.

"That's pretty much what I just said, Booth!" she countered.

"I like my version better," he challenged.

"I agree," she capitulated verbally, grinding her star-spangled ass back into his naked one. "You'll be needing this," she said, extracting a condom from behind one of her Amazonium bracelets.

"Wait, what…? Where did you…?" began Booth.

"I extracted it from your wallet during the removal of your pants," she stated. The opportunistic episode of kleptomania by Temperance _'Lightfingers'_ Brennan, yet more evidence of her excellent criminal pedigree.

"God, Bones!" exclaimed Booth, as her blue hotpants hit the floor. Her hands had a mind of their own, and it was a dirty, dirty mind; hell-bent on getting them naked and carnally engaged. She wore only sheer to waist pantyhose under the Wonder Woman hotpants.

"What, Booth? Has the condom expired?" she asked.

"No panties? I'm pretty sure the Justice League has rules about that…and the condom is fine." Booth gave a wry chuckle.

"Wonder Woman doesn't have panty lines, Booth!" She laughed as she ripped at the pantyhose, which were already laddered and shredded at the knees, exposing the flesh that he was compelled to touch.

.

"Turn around," said Booth. He braced his arms on either side of her as she took the half-turn to face him, capturing his mouth in a kiss as it came into range, biting at his bottom lip playfully. Her hands were pleased to discover the warm planes of his chest wall were now free of the Superman shirt, she ran them over the chiselled planes of his torso, down to the inguinal lines which she traced with her short thumbnails. He bucked his hips up against her as the thumbnails headed into dangerous territory.

"I want you, now," she blurted out as his condom-clad hardness ground into her relative softness, triggering a warning climactic rush which surpassed the intensity of some orgasms that she had experienced in the past. His hand stole down to the cluster of curls, which concealed the place where they needed to be, and soon if the barely suppressed gasps of Temperance Brennan were any indicator.

"I can tell. Do you wanna head to the couch?" he asked.

She answered by moving his hands to her hips and wrapping her own around his neck. A still booted leg was lifted up to hook around his hip as she arched her back against the wall in invitation, one breast popped out of the bodice of the costume in an X-rated Justice League wardrobe malfunction.

"No, Booth. You said you'd do me against the wall. So do it already," she growled in frustration.

His muscles flexed and bulged as he lifted her and pinned her body against the wall. Her legs anchored themselves around his body and she angled her hips in what she knew kinesiologically was the ideal position to facilitate the ultimate intimate contact, in the shortest possible time. Gravity did the rest as her body weight shifted around the fulcrum of her hips.

They simultaneously blasphemed Booth's God as he slid into home base. Her hips pushed hard against his, and she let out an ecstatic yell as his mouth made contact with her fugitive breast. He felt her tighten around him and saw a pink flush forming over the pale skin of her chest and neck, close to panting with the exertion of maintaining control.

He firmed his grip under her ass and secured her position against the wall as best he could, feeling the ankles of her boots locking behind his back in response.

.

"This is gonna be fast," he admitted.

"I know," she replied.

"It could get a little rough…"

"I've heard that about wall sex…"

"I want you to enjoy this…"

"Agreed. So you should do us both a favour and move, Booth…"

"Like this?"

"Ah…, yes…"

"This?"

"Mmm hmm!"

"Uh, oh…God!"

"Can't help you now…Booth…"

"Fuck…!"

"That's more like it…Oh, now…Harder. Now!"

.

Their steamy bickering was replaced by groans, grunts and gasps; which were accompanied by the tinkling and rattling of various artefacts and curios on the shelves attached to the wall.

He marvelled at the strength of her legs and hips as she matched his pace, thrust for thrust, grind for grind. She marvelled at the unerring physical discipline that he maintained, providing the perfect mix of internal and external friction that promised to get her triggered into a drawn out string of orgasmic release – something that had only ever happened once before in her experience. Her mind was torn from the comparative analysis of complex tantric sex experience versus that of a Seeley Wallbanger, as her animal instincts kicked in.

Brennan gave a smothered scream as she bit her lip against the first involuntary twitch that signalled her climax within the maelstrom of heat, friction, and desire that threatened to drown her.

Booth heard the scream, felt her stiffen, saw her eyes roll back and close tight, and heard her head make contact with the wall as it lolled back. Their epic rhythm began to pick up a faster momentum, losing perfection in the process. It didn't matter, because they were at the peak. They were covered in sweat as they exerted every erg of energy into this insane pursuit of fulfilment. He chose his focus for the final leg of the journey, placing his lips on her neck, just under her jaw, panting hot breath, half-words, and half kisses to the skin as he made contact. He struggled to maintain the faster pace, but as his lips made contact with her neck, she climaxed with a violent spasm, her internal grip on him correcting his increasingly erratic thrusts. In recognition of his efforts, Brennan rewarded him with a loud, inarticulate cry of pleasure each time he succeeded in burying himself into her again. His discovery that she was a screamer was the trigger that completed him. Like a slap to the back of the head, his orgasm hit him with the intensity of a Taser gun discharge.

He heard harsh cries and a crash. As he regained his focus the momentary lapse of reason, Booth realised that the vocalisations were his own; the crash was from the impact of an earthenware pot hitting the floor. It had been shaken off the shelf. They both collapsed against the wall with breathless laughter; skin slick with perspiration, muscles protesting in post-coital shock.

.

"So, what now Wonder Woman?" asked Booth.

He nibbled at her earlobe teasingly and she batted him away with a smirk.

"We need to remove the evidence of our wall sex before I take you home, Booth. There are some surfaces there that need to be _explored_, mostly horizontal, but some perpendicular," she replied.

"What about the _'surfaces'_ at my place Bones?" he quipped.

"All in good time" she retorted, pointing at a red blinking light on the roofline of her office. There won't be any time tonight. It will take us a couple of hours to remove the video footage from the security cameras. It would be advisable to do so before the main security team return from the Halloween Ball venue."

"What?" Booth was aghast.

"The angle of the camera will result in mostly obscured images of the lower halves of our bodies. However, I believe that Cam will be able to make a positive ID from your ass."

* * *

**A/N (Post Script): This piece was originally posted at The Lab Forum. Apologies for the delay in posting here, but I am far from home on a business trip. **

**In a note of trivia: An article about the making of 'The Mummy in the Maze' episode reported that DB was wearing a Superman T-shirt under his 'squint' outfit, so it had to be brought into this piece. There is also a picture of a grinning ED with the Lasso of Truth around DB - so yeah, I had to go there too.**

**I would really appreciate a review for this story, because I'm unsure whether I should write more in this *ahem* genre...**


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